Prelude to Horror
by half-brain
Summary: The events leading up to the Spencer Mansion incident in 1998.  ChrisxJill.  Rated T for language and blood and gore .
1. A New Nightmare

A/N: First Resident Evil story so far, thanks to Lord Leachim for my love of , Lime Rickey for some interesting inspiration, Drew Skye for giving me the idea for Chris and Jill's relationship, x-Artichoke-x for giving me the idea of pre-RE1, dragonkeeper219 for constantly nagging me until I created a FanFiction account, and many others including S.D. Perry, Boss-Awesome, Special Agent FUNK, Supermodel Sandwich, and Project X. There are many more of you, especially those who REVIEW! So please, review, and I'll probably end up checking out some of your stuff too. Oh, and Capcom for an amazing game. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Raccoon City, May 1998 (about 3 months prior to the mansion incident)

"Chris?"

Dark shapes ran at him, he was unarmed, they were going to kill him. He had no way to stop them.

"Chris."

The first one got to him, he could see it, see her now, it was Jill, and there was Kenneth. But it wasn't Jill, or Kenneth, or Enrico or Joseph. Jill's teeth sank deep into his shoulder.

"Chris, wake up."

Chris's head shot off his desk, his hand reaching for his Beretta as he looked Jill in the face. Her real face. He relaxed.

"You okay?"

Chris swallowed and nodded, noting the concern written on Jill's face. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a dream." But something told him it was more than just that.

Jill raised an eyebrow, but let it go. "C'mon, let's get out of here. The rest of the team left an hour ago, even Wesker went home." He looked around and realized it was true. Chris gave a lopsided grin.

"Late night dinner at Emmy's?"

"Only if you're driving." She smiled. Chris grabbed his Leather jacket from the back of his chair, leaving it spinning and forgetting the nightmare.

After the frustratingly long walk through elaborately decorated hallways and rooms, and two flights of stairs, they had made it to the garage and got into Chris' car. The dark blue '67 Mustang roared down Bybee, brown brick shops passing by as he accelerated towards the old diner.

"Isn't it twenty-five here?"

He just flashed Jill a smirk. "By the way, it's my turn to buy. Don't even try to argue." Jill gave him a mock annoyed glare. They pulled into the small parking lot and Chris killed the engine.

Emmy's Diner was its usual semi-busy, a few customers talking quietly in booths as one man chatted with a pink-polyester clad waitress, Julie. She waved at the two S.T.A.R.S. members. "Hey, our favorite two cops! I'll be with you in a sec."

"We definitely don't come here often enough," Chris muttered amusedly to Jill.

"Only every couple nights," she shot back. "If you could cook—"

"Hey, wait a minute, low blow!" His fake pout made Jill laugh. They took a booth. Julie strolled over and took their order.

After she had left, Jill asked, "You sure you don't need to talk about anything?"

Chris shrugged. "Just a freaky dream, probably that leftover pizza I had at lunch. Nothing to worry about I hope."

"Okay. But you know I'm here if you want to talk."

"Yeah, I know." His eyes shifted to the table as the dream replayed in his head. He was snapped out of his thoughts when their radios crackled, then they heard a woman, Rita, talking.

"This is Officer Hawkins to any nearby units. We have a one-eighty-seven on nineteen East Bettery. Requesting backup."

Chris grabbed the black, rectangular device from his belt. "This is Redfield, Valentine and I are on our way there. Hold tight."

They launched from their booth, motioned to Julie to hold their order, and charged out the door.

Nineteen East Bettery St. was only a couple minutes away, and they reached the crime scene in record time. Red and blue lights illuminated the gruesome scene.

Two bodies, or what was left of them, lay in the driveway, reduced to bone and tangles of red, sticky sinew. Tatters of cloth and pale flesh clung in patches to the bloody mess. One victim's near bare jaw hung open in a silent scream. Dark crimson dog prints led off into the yard and disappeared. Officers Rita Hawkins and Jim Silva stood nearby, hands on their sidearms. Yellow police tape surrounded the area.

"Christ, it happened again," Silva muttered to the approaching S.T.A.R.S. members. "Definitely canine bite patterns, not human like the first two times."

"First non-human attack in town. Shit that smells bad," Chris added.

"Smells like roadkill on a hot day," Jill noted as she wrinkled her nose. Rita just grimaced.

"Who are these two?" asked Chris, motioning at the corpses with a boot.

"Not sure. Gonna have to check dental records when they get to the morgue, not much else we can do." said Silva as he shook his head. It was brutal, insane.

A news van came quickly around the corner, parking behind Chris' Mustang. Jill glared. "Look who showed up. Chief Windbag probably isn't far behind." It was true, Chief of Police Brian Irons was definitely a media hog. And full of hot air. Also, somehow he seemed like he still hadn't thought to assign the S.T.A.R.S. to the cannibal murder case.

The reporter and camera crew leapt out and trotted over. Chris pulled out his badge and moved to block them.

"We're here from Raccoon Seven. We heard about two more killings that may be linked to the Victory Lake cannibal murders. Can you tell us what happened? Who are these two people?" The blonde reporter stared at him, impatiently expectant.

"I am not authorized to answer these or any other questions you may have at this time. Please direct any questions to Chief of Police Irons when he arrives, or wait for the detailed public report." Chris made it clear there was no way that anyone was getting past him, but the reporter tried anyway. Then she saw the corpses and turned pale.

"Oh my God…"

More news vehicles were arriving, and a third patrol car had come to help hold the curious reporters and journalists back. This was gonna be a long night.


	2. One of These Days

A/N: Sorry it took so long, got bogged down with homework and writers block. More on the way, and keep reviewing!

* * *

Barry muttered as he scooped the massive pile of papers back up into a neat stack, cursing the day paper was invented, although Joseph probably would argue that Barry was old enough that he just would have had to engrave it in stone. Even though he was only 38, he was the oldest member of the S.T.A.R.S. team, and received plenty of harmless flak about it. He saw Chris walk in, looking more dead to the world than ever. His eyes were bloodshot, with purpley bags underneath. His hair, though clean, was a bit tousled, and he obviously hadn't bothered to shave. "Hey buddy, lookin' sharp," Joseph Frost, their mechanic, prodded with a toothy grin. The simple response was something between a grunt, a sigh, and a moan. "Long night on the town?"

"You could say that," answered an almost equally disheveled Jill as she came through the oak door. Barry couldn't hold back a low chuckle.

"What did you two do last night?" Joseph asked in an insinuating tone.

"You read the paper this morning? Front page, we're both on it," slurred Chris.

"Which one?"

"All of them."

"What happened?" Barry asked, now really interested and mildly worried.

"Two more deaths, been confirmed that they were chewed on by canines. Still no ID, there wasn't much left to identify."

"Damn." Barry rubbed his short, red beard. "You think Irons is gonna give the case to us soon?"

Wesker, the S.T.A.R.S. captain, spoke without as much as looking up from what he was doing. "I'm working on it." His expression was tense and grim. Then again, since when was that unusual thing?

Barry accidentally knocked over the pile of papers again and they exploded everywhere as they hit the floor. "God damn it!" He heard Joseph snicker from across the room and shot him an icy glare.

Wesker ignored them as Chris poured two cups of coffee, handing one to Jill and sipping from the other. He sat down and began to rummage for something amidst the clutter on his desk. Brad finally showed up, late for the third time in a row, and got an annoyed look from Wesker while they passed each other in the doorway. The S.T.A.R.S. captain had "other matters" to attend to.

"So Chris," Barry began, "Kendo is almost done with those Samurai Edge Berettas. We should be getting them soon."

The younger man's face brightened. "What are the specs on 'em?"

Barry chuckled. "All the usual, plus a longer Inox barrel, optional eighteen round magazine, reduced recoil, custom sights, brigadier slide, and cherry wood grips. Any gun nut's wet dream."

Chris let out a low whistle. "Sounds like Kendo's putting a lot of work into this."

"No kidding." Barry saw Jill roll her eyes in feigned disgust. "What?"

She laughed, then jokingly commented, "I'll never get over how obsessed you two are with guns."

"Tsk tsk. If it weren't for our, as you say, obsession with guns, where would you be? Heck, Chris and I wouldn't even know each other."

Wesker came back into the room, ending conversation with a simple glare. _He should get hired as a high school teacher, _thought Barry. _He'd be able to keep the classroom quiet. _The S.T.A.R.S. captain sat down and had just begun signing papers when his phone rang. "What?"

Barry heard a muffled sound that could only be orders over the phone as the captain sat with an ever-increasing look of seriousness. Must be bad. "Okay, Alphas. We have a hostage situation at the offices on Ivy and French, three gunmen with sub-machine guns and a shotgun, wearing Kevlar. I want everyone ready for action in five minutes."

* * *

The S.T.A.R.S. van screeched to a stop as the back doors flew wide. Chris was out first, silenced M4 in hand, and was followed by Barry and Jill. Marvin Branaugh was yelling orders through a bullhorn to the criminals inside, but they had no intent of surrender. Intel had said that they were holding the hostages somewhere on the second floor. High threat level.

"Redfield, you know what to do," said Wesker from behind dark sunglasses. Chris nodded and led the team around back, past a dumpster and some miscellaneous junk. The door was locked, but this proved no issue as Jill picked it in mere seconds, quite possibly setting a new personal record. Rifles raised, they entered as the door swung silently open.

Little was out of place that they could immediately see, although with closer inspection Chris noticed the cameras were all disabled, a bullet through each one's lens. His boots made little noise on the carpet. They worked their way through an office, and down another length of hallway. A few framed paintings decorated the tan walls of each passage. The steep staircase was just ahead, and Chris peeked around the corner before heading up while Barry stayed on the first floor. It wasn't long before he began to hear shouts and yells. They were coming from around the corner of the hallway, past a number of offices. The duo moved slowly, doing their best to remain quiet and check the corners. Chris crouched as they came around the bend, motioning Jill to do the same. One man stood in their path, black ski mask covering his face and an MP5 in hand. He spotted Chris right as Chris fired. The .223 round hit the gunman between the eyes with a plunk, and he fell to the ground as blood splashed out the back of his head.

"One down," Chris whispered. He signaled for Jill to stay put as he moved to the door.

Suddenly it burst open, the man on the other side barely pausing in surprise before leveling his shotgun at Chris. A three-round burst struck the man in the chest before he had a chance to fire, and Chris kicked away the 12 gauge as he looked for the other gunman. He was nowhere to be seen.

Jill cried out, and Chris spun to see she was being held in a chokehold by the third criminal, a revolver held against her head. She struggled for a brief moment, then kicked him in the groin, making him let her go and giving Chris a clear shot as she ducked out of the way. He fired, and the man toppled to the floor, blood gushing from multiple bullet wounds.

"Thanks," Jill said, a little out of breath.

"It's what I'm here for," Chris replied with a grin.

They walked into the room, still a little cautious, to find about two dozen office workers. One of the hostages yelled, "There's a bomb in here!" The frightened man pointed with a shaking finger to a tangle of wires and other various materials. The digital display counted down, with two minutes left on the clock. Jill took charge.

"Everyone, get out of the building!" She motioned for Chris to go as she began working to disarm the device and the hostages stampeded for the exit.

"I'm not leaving you in here."

"Yes you are, if I can't disarm the bomb in time I don't want you to die to. This thing's got enough C-four to level this building, and the ones next to it. Get everyone away."

Chris wanted to argue, but he knew his duty. He charged down the stairs, grabbing Barry, and burst out the front door. "Everyone back! There's a bomb inside!"

Branaugh nodded and relayed the message over his bullhorn, louder so the entire crowd could hear. "Everyone, get as far away from the building as you can. There is a bomb on the second floor. I repeat, everyone get away from the building. There is a bomb." Chris estimated only a minute left at most.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, he ran back in as he heard Wesker yell for him to stay outside. The life of his partner was his responsibility. Taking each step two at a time, Chris flew up the stairs and ran for the room at the end of the hall where Jill sat digging through the wires. The timer read 0:27. He was about to grab her and jump out the window when she must have found the right one, and the clock went dark.

"Got it." She turned around to see Chris. "You just can't follow orders, can you?" Her expression was somewhat amused as opposed to accusatory.

"You did it again. One of these days I'm gonna have to stop worrying about you."

She smiled. "One of these days."


	3. Agenda

A/N: Hello readers! Thank you for getting this far! I want to thank the people who have reviewed, you are awesome, also, Supermodel Sandwich for a couple really good stories that helped me clarify what this leads up to and where it came from. There's a reference to a wonderful story by WindyWildWolf, see if you can catch it. This chapter is leading up to some big stuff in the story, so stay tuned. And, I can't stress enough, REVIEW! Hope you enjoy!

* * *

The next few days were relatively uneventful. Barry bragged about his eldest daughter's latest accomplishment, Jill had to keep Joseph from being too hard on Brad, and Chris' latest attempt at cooking had left his kitchen smelling like burnt something-or-other, a smell that would probably last a long time. Then one day Barry walked in with twelve handgun cases, each one labeled with the name of a S.T.A.R.S. member. The alphas snatched theirs up and popped them open. It was like Christmas in May.

Jill examined the Beretta, noticing the blue and gold S.T.A.R.S. symbol glimmering brilliantly, inset dead center of the grip's polished wood side panels. Admittedly, the gun was beautiful. She pulled it from the foam.

"These are yours, feel free to carry them on you, keep them clean, you know the drill," Wesker said. "Barry, thank Mister Kendo for me next time you see him. I appreciate the time he put into these."

"Can do."

Wesker left again. He certainly had a lot of "other business" to attend to lately. Always hopeful, Barry had suggested the other day that maybe the captain had finally found a girl, sending Joseph into fits of laughter and nearly causing Brad to choke on his coffee.

"Captain Wesker? With a girlfriend?" Chris had remarked. "Don't get me wrong, I like the guy… well, maybe I don't, but I respect him, and… just no." Even Jill hadn't been able to suppress a good laugh.

Chris' voice brought her back to the present. "So Claire called last night, she'll be here in a couple days."

"Haven't seen her in forever. Tell that girl she needs to visit more often."

Chris laughed. "I think she's starting to get annoyed with my protectiveness."

"Starting?"

He gave her an over exagerated pout.

Barry spoke up. "You two and Claire should come over to my house for dinner that night. It's been a while since Kathy or the kids have seen any of you. Well, maybe not Chris. He's too hungry to survive without our help."

Chris threw his arms up and grumbled something about it being "pick-on-Chris-day," then looked to Jill for the final say.

"Sure, sounds great, you guys are practically family and always make the best food." Jill smiled at memories of holidays and other occasions spent with the Burtons and the Redfield siblings. There were quite a few.

"Alright, I'll let Kathy know."

* * *

Chris was fighting. No, he was being beat up. He couldn't tell. The dark figure slammed him into a wall, a darkness he knew, a darkness he hated. There was Jill, charging the cloaked enemy. She was kicked away. Chris felt himself being strangled. He tried to tell Jill to run away, but she charged once again and hit the darkness, sending her and it off a ledge and into the abyss below. Uselessly he reached for her, screaming her name.

He woke up, his plea for his partner still echoing in his mind. Shaking his head to rid himself of the rapid-fire flashes of the dream, he grabbed the water bottle he kept on his nightstand and took a swig. Squinting to see the red, digital numbers, Chris saw it was a little after three in the morning. His head fell back onto his pillow as he let out an annoyed groan.

These nightmares had been increasing in frequency since the start of the murders and disappearances. As much as he'd like to blame it on cold pizza or the occasional beer, he knew it had to be something else.

Unable to go back to sleep and unwilling to further contemplate his dreams, Chris rubbed his bleary eyes and peered out the window. Streetlights bathed Bike Street in a yellow glow. The many shops and other apartments were dark, only an occasional neon "closed" sign burning red against the black. All of Raccoon was asleep.

* * *

Yet another day passed without much going on. Jill and Chris went to the police station's gun range, both alpha and bravo team went out to lunch together, and Wesker returned from one of his many excursions muttering something that sounded like "Chief fat-ass." The next day however, Chris awoke to see Claire staring at him with a goofy grin.

"Gah! What the—who the hell let you in? What are you doing here so early?" the older of the two Redfields stammered. Claire just giggled.

"What? No 'hey little sis' or 'I missed you?'"

Chris just glared with bloodshot eyes at her, then his face broke into the trademark lopsided Redfield grin. "Get over here and give your brother a hug."

They embraced until Claire muttered in Chris' ear, "Ugh, you smell like man stench." He gave her a playful shove as she smirked wryly at him, then shrieked as a pillow flew at her head.

"Get outta here and let me get ready for work!" he yelled before a chuckle.

A hot shower and bowl of cereal later, he dropped Claire off with the Burtons and headed for the RPD. Jill greeted him in the garage, handing him a cup of coffee.

"You're certainly in a good mood," he said, breathing in the coffee's aroma. Not the cheap stuff from the S.T.A.R.S. office. "Dare I ask?"

She beamed radiantly. "Just happy. Now drink that coffee before it gets cold and goes to waste." He was happy to oblige. They got to the S.T.A.R.S. room and sat at their desks as the rest of the team arrived.

"So I woke up to an interesting surprise."

Jill looked at him inquisitively and echoed him. "Dare I ask?"

"A certain sibling snuck into my apartment sometime early this morning."

Chris' partner only seemed to get happier. I can't wait to see her. When was the last time? Christmas, when she tried to put makeup on me?"

"Probably something like that." He remembered _that_ incident particularly well. Jill already looked amazing without makeup, to say the least. With it… Chris cut off those thoughts before they got to his head, reminding himself that they were just friends, albeit extremely close.

Wesker stormed in, a scowl plastered on his face. "For any of you not paying attention to the news, three hikers disappeared last night. Irons still refuses to put us on the case."

Chris lost his good mood. "That's bullshit. Why the hell hasn't Irons handed it over yet?" He saw Jill's expression go sour too.

"He won't tell me. Believe me, I'm trying." The captain's almost monotone voice had grown a hint of frustration.

Barry nodded in understanding. "Someone's got to pull that guy's head out of his ass." This produced a snicker from Joseph.

"All of you, listen up. You will be exceedingly nice and respectful to the chief from here on out, or I will personally hunt you down. Am I clear?"

There was a chorus of yes-sirs.

"Good. Take the afternoon off, I'm sick of keeping you in here with nothing to do." Wesker plopped down in his seat, eyes distant, obviously preoccupied. Alpha team got back to work.

* * *

Everything in the Arklay lab had hit the fan. It wouldn't be long before the infection hit the city in a way that would make these few murders and disappearances look like nothing unless UBCS troops were dispatched to contain the spread. Despite the danger, Wesker knew Spencer and Umbrella had their own plans, of which he was an intricate player. But he refused to just be a pawn. He had his own agenda. Unfortunately, the generally easy-to-bribe Irons was hesitant to take this step over the edge. The S.T.A.R.S. captain didn't blame him, but would do whatever was necessary to facilitate this… research opportunity.

His face tightened into a sort of smirk. It was possibly one of his best plans ever, made even better by the fact that no one knew his true intentions. Looking at alpha team, he saw they were strong, courageous, cool headed, but ultimately oblivious. Couldn't be more perfect.


	4. Close to Home

A/N: Sorry it took so long and that it's so short. Fanfiction was not letting me access the story. Next few chapters written

* * *

Jill headed to her small house in the Cider District, her dark green hatchback rattling to a stop in her driveway. The two neighbor girls, Becky and Priscilla McGee, ran to greet her. Jill bent down to give the nine- and seven- year old hugs. They were smiling from ear to ear.

Becky, the older, curly haired sister, spoke quickly. "Jill, we're going on a picnic and wanted you to come. Can you? Please?"

Jill smiled back, calculating everything that she had to do. Bills that had been due a week ago, needed to get a birthday card in the mail for a friend back in Indiana, pick up laundry at the dry cleaner's, the list went on. "I'm sorry, I wish I could, but I have a lot of errands to run right now. Tell ya what, I promise to go with next time, just let me know a day before. Sound like a deal?"

They nodded, Priscilla's pig tails bobbing, happy that their grown-up friend would go with them soon. They ran back to their waiting parents, who waved at Jill. She waved back, thinking how lucky she was to have such friendly neighbors.

By the time Jill was done running back and forth across town, it was time for dinner. Chris' car was already sitting against the sidewalk in front of the Burton house.

The instant Jill made it through the door, Claire practically tackled her with a happy shriek.

"Someone's sure excited to see me," commented Jill. Claire responded with a mischievous grin.

She slipped off her shoes and headed for the living room where Chris and the Burtons chatted, exchanging stories from their Air Force days. Chris patted the cushion next to him, indicating it was free as he continued retelling how he had gotten back at a certain Lieutenant. Barry's laughter boomed , his face red as he slapped his knee. "I was wondering where that footlocker went!"

"Or there was that one time we sent Snyder for the one-D-ten-T forms"

"And the chem. light batteries." He burst out laughing again.

Kathy, Barry's wife, looked at Jill with warm, auburn eyes. "Good to see you, Jill. How have things been going?"

"They've been great, actually. Work has been fairly calm, my partner isn't too much of a nutcase," she said, punching Chris playfully in the arm, "and Wesker seems to be going soft in his old age."

"So Barry's told me," Kathy added.

"How have things been around here?"

"Well, Barry's probably told you all there is to know about the girls. It's been… quiet I guess. But that's been nice."

"I bet. I wish that I could get some peace and quiet." Valentine glared at Chris, getting a "what, me?" look in return.

Kathy laughed, then something in the kitchen beeped. "Be right back, don't want the potatoes to get to dried out."

After they ate, they talked more and there was a somewhat violent game of rummy before Chris and Jill decided it was time to head home. It was late, and Wesker wanted them in the office early.

"I'll see you in the morning Chris. Have a good night." He gave her a long bear hug before they left.

When Jill got home, she kicked off her shoes and turned on the TV before heading into the bathroom to brush her teeth. But what was on the news stopped her cold.

* * *

Chris, hungry again even after the mass amount of food he had downed and much to his sister's amazement, grabbed a slice of cold pizza from his nearly empty fridge and gobbled it down before Claire could fit in a snide remark. He knew it was coming, but just as she opened her mouth the phone rang. Chris snatched it from its cradle. "Hello?"

"Um, Chris… it's Jill."

Was she crying? "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just… I mean, I need to talk to you, now. Something happened. Can you make it over here? I know it's late, but-"

"Jill, don't worry about it. I'll be over in a sec. Do you want Claire too?"

"Uh… no, I don't think so."

"Okay, give me about five minutes."

"Thanks."

He set the phone down and grabbed his jacket and keys, getting a worried look from Claire. "I'll be back, don't worry about it. You know where everything is, make yourself at home." The door slammed behind him.

Chris showed up at Jill's exactly five minutes later with a bucket of chocolate ice cream, finding Jill sitting sullenly on her bed. Looking up with bloodshot eyes, she saw him and flew from the mattress and into his arms. The ice cream hit the floor with a thud, but luckily stayed upright as Chris held her tight. She began to sob into his shoulder, and he rocked her back and forth gently.

"Shh… it's gonna be okay." This only made her cry more. He guided her back to the bed and sat next to her as she sniffled and wiped the tears from her eyes. He could barely stand to see the usually calm and confident Jill Valentine in this state. He squeezed her shoulder, and she looked down at her feet.

"I just… I can't believe this happened, I was just talking to them an hour before. God, I just can't believe it." She shook her head, sniffling again. Chris pulled her closer.

"Brought you ice cream," he tried hopefully.

She managed a weak smile. "Thanks."

"What happened?"

Jill explained about how the two neighbor girls had invited her to a picnic and she hadn't been able to go, then while they were on the picnic the two girls had wandered off into the wooded part of the park and disappeared. When their parents found them, there wasn't much left that was recognizable. The police report confirmed human bite marks.

"I'm so sorry." Jill had begun to cry again. "I promise you, we're gonna find these guys and put them away for a long time."

"You don't know that," she croaked.

"I do. I don't know how, I just know. Call it Redfield intuition."

That produced another attempt at a smile from her. "Chris, you're the best. I love you, like a brother."

Chris was surprised that the last thing she said stung a little. Like a brother. That should make it happy, and the fact that it didn't worried him. But he couldn't let her know that, and covered it up with a smile. "Thanks. I love you too."


	5. By the River

Chris woke up to find Jill's head on his shoulder, and was glad to remember they had simply fallen asleep talking. They were sitting on the couch, and the bucket of ice cream sat at their feet, about an inch of thick, chocolaty liquid in the bottom. Taking in a deep breath through his nose, he shifted so he could look at his watch. Just before seven in the morning.

Jill's eyelids slowly opened, and she looked around before stretching and yawning. "What time is it?"

"Almost seven."

She stood, yawning again. "Better get ready for work. You still carry a change of clothing in your car?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be out of the shower in a few minutes." She walked away.

It wasn't the first time Chris had fallen asleep at Jill's house, but it also wasn't the norm. He got up and began rummaging through the pantry for something similar to breakfast. Healthy stuff, healthy stuff, Top Ramen, bingo. Pop Tarts. He ripped open the shiny packaging and placed the pastries in the toaster.

Jill was out in record time, and Chris grabbed his clean clothing before taking a near scalding shower. They headed out.

Chris stopped by his apartment, letting Claire know everything was okay, and waved at Marvin Branaugh on his way past the investigators' offices.

The S.T.A.R.S. room was packed with all eleven of the branch's members, and Wesker began talking as soon as Chris had closed the door.

"Irons has finally given us the Victory Lake District cannibal murder case. The RPD will continue with their investigation, but we are officially part of the team now. Our temporary job will be to gather all the information we can and formulate our own theories about the killers. In the event that the case is not solved by July, we will spearhead the investigation on the ground. I trust you won't mess this up. Bravos, you're dismissed. Alphas, get to work."

The day ground by at a snail's pace, and Chris was glad to be done by the time five o-clock rolled around. Didn't help that it was getting warm and the air conditioning had died. Jill still was a bit down, but last night seemed to have helped. That and the opportunity to really do something about this case.

"Hey Chris, you want to pick up your sister and head to Emmy's?"

Jill looked at him hopefully. He supposed it was about time he hung out with his sister more, and he was really hungry… not to mention it looked like Jill needed some time to just hang out and have fun.

"Sure. I'll meet you there in ten minutes."

One corner of her mouth turned up in the beginning of a smile. "Sounds like a plan."

Outside, the sun had warmed everything in its yellow rays. A few wispy clouds hung in the blue sky over the foothills of the Arklay range, and the air smelled fresh. A couple flies buzzed around lazily. Raccoon's joggers and bikers were out in full, and some kids played in a backyard while their mother sat watching them. It was one of those days that made Chris glad to live here. His blue car cruised down the street in the moderate afternoon traffic, stopping occasionally as signs and lights dictated.

Claire was lounged on the couch when he got home, freshly showered after a run. The TV was on, and Chris snatched up the remote to turn it off. She lunged for it but missed, and the screen went dark with a snap.

"What?" she questioned loudly as if to fend off an accusation.

"We got the case."

Claire grinned. "You mean _that _case? Congratulations. But why did you need to turn off my show?"

"Jill wants us to meet her at Emmy's. You ready to go?"

Claire got to her feet and slipped on her shoes. "I am now." They stepped back out into the summer air.

The sun had barely begun to sink towards the west as he drove and reminded his sister for the second time already to keep her feet off of the dash. Claire's reddish brown ponytail and bangs whipped around in the wind as she rolled down the window. "Is Jill doing okay?"

Chris bit his lower lip before responding. "I think she's doing a lot better after last night, but I think she's still pretty upset. None of the guys seemed to really be able to tell, but then again, we were kinda working our asses off to get completely up to speed."

Claire nodded. "That's what I figured. That must really suck."

Chris thought immediately of his parents, who died in a car crash a little over three years prior. The relationship may not have been the same as with Jill and the McGees, but there was no denying that a loss like that was painful. He could tell Claire was thinking the exact same thing. Time for a subject change.

"Got any boyfriends for me to straighten out?" Chris prodded.

"Even if I did, why would I tell you?" responded Claire with a sly smirk. "Not to mention, there are few people who can handle two Redfields at the same time."

They arrived, and Chris took the free spot next to Jill's small Toyota.

Jill was at a booth, and the siblings plopped down on either side of her. She looked glummer than before, but still like she was holding together well. She was a lot stronger than most girls Chris knew.

"What did you do today?" Jill asked Claire.

"Not much. Worked out, ran, watched a little TV, and hung out with some old friends from around here."

"Yeah, hopefully tomorrow we'll be able to do something together," Chris assured. "I've got work off."

They ordered their food and had just almost finished dinner when the radio burst to life. It was the dispatcher. "Potential one-eighty-seven reported in the city park, down on the river just north of the bridge. Possibly connected to the Victory Lake case. Are there any units in the area?"

Chris responded. "This is Redfield, just a few minutes away. I'll head there with Valentine now. Requesting you send backup."

"Will do. Good luck."

Jill sighed. "Seems this happens an awful lot when we're eating dinner."

"Claire, wait here. I don't need you getting involved in this."

The young woman crossed her arms defiantly. "I'm coming with."

They exchanged glares, but after a few seconds, in some sort of unspoken agreement only possible between siblings, Chris caved. "Alright. Just stay in the car."

"Okay."

They dashed out the door, Chris having left the check on the table. Claire squashed herself in the back, and as seatbelts clicked into place they were off.

The light was beginning to turn a golden hue, and the shadows were longer and more harsh when they came to the entrance of Raccoon City Park, sometimes known as Umbrella Park as the corporation had funded its construction.

Leaving Claire in the Mustang with his spare gun, Chris and Jill jogged cautiously down the main path. Thick underbrush hemmed them in on both sides, and leafy branches overhead blocked out more light while distorting the surroundings in shadows.

"I remember playing in this park, back when we would visit my grandparents. I don't think I've been here since they passed away. Looks a lot different, but if I remember correctly the fastest way down to the river is just up ahead to our left." Chris led the way, eyes glancing around warily. The path, he believed, was the one just ahead. It was a simple, gravel trail enclosed by foliage. They turned.

"You smell that?" hissed Jill. As a matter of fact, there was a soft, unpleasant odor wafting from nearby. The smell of rotting meat. With every step it became stronger, and was soon accompanied by voices. They quickened their pace.

From the sound of it, there was at least a young man and young woman. When the S.T.A.R.S. members emerged into the clearing at the bank of the Circular River, Chris saw two thin figures standing next to an unmoving lump on the ground.

From the looks of it, they were high school students out for a jog. The lump was the eviscerated body of an older woman.

"Identify yourselves." Chris drew his sidearm in one hand and badge in the other.

They put their hands up, obviously startled enough already due to what they had found. "I'm Greg, and this is Melissa. We were just out for a jog, and…"

"I understand. You didn't touch the body, did you? Move it?"

"N-no sir."

"Good. Don't go anywhere."

Jill was already examining the wounds. "At least this one still has a face."

"Not a whole lot else though, from the looks of it."

Chunks of tissue and uncoiled intestine lay about, and the soil was stained red in splotches. One half of the ribcage was pulled back from the rest of the torso, and anything left in the chest cavity was mincemeat. Damn, these killers were a special brand of sick. It smelled just as bad as the last scene too. Jill held the radio up near her mouth. "Dispatch, this is Valentine. We are at the scene. Victim is an Asian woman, looks like in her mid-sixties. How long until backup gets here?"

The radio crackled. "Four officers on their way, you're clear to leave once they arrive."

Chris noticed footprints leading off into the trees, towards the city. Resisting the urge to follow them, he decided it would be best to stay with Jill and the two teenagers. Backup arrived shortly.

* * *

Wesker looked at the monitor, seeing the monster, his creation, nearly motionless in its stasis tube. A blue glow emanated from the liquid-filled glass chamber containing the sleeping T-002 as its exposed heart beat slowly but powerfully. It was somehow the ugliest, scariest, and most beautiful thing Wesker had seen.

He turned his attention to another screen. A single researcher wandered in circles endlessly, rotting legs slowly carrying him forward, going nowhere. There wasn't a single researcher or staff member left uninfected, unless you counted Wesker himself.

Other security monitors told the same story. Mostly empty halls, with an occasional infected shambling across the screen, or one of the Ma-121's stalking about. Those were one of the fake S.T.A.R.S. captain's main worries, and also one of his greater experiments. Could the well-trained Alphas or even Bravos handle the 121's or some of the other nasty surprises that awaited them?

He drummed his fingers, deep in thought. Irons was the only thing holding him back, but he would eventually fall victim to greed or one of Wesker's more creative methods to convince the chief to send in the S.T.A.R.S.

There was also something that he hadn't lent a lot of thought to. What if there were survivors? It was highly unlikely, but not impossible, and could throw a wrench in his plans. The conclusion came to him easily. He'd kill them himself, if the need arose, but he doubted they would last even to the point of getting into the lower labs.

Yes, the plan would go flawlessly. Umbrella would get their data and think he was still working for them, while the other corporation, who paid considerably better, would get samples of the virus. A big economic gain for the person arranging the exchange. Of course, he would keep a sample for himself, a sort of contingency plan as it were. Just a mater of time before everything fell into place.


	6. Rabbitson

A/N: Two more chapters after this, assuming everything goes as planned. Those of you who are reading this, thanks for sticking it out, and I hope to see reviews!

* * *

The next month and a half went by with only a couple more incidents, plenty of evidence, but ultimately no breakthrough. Jill sat hunched over her kitchen table, coffee in one hand and a page of the newspaper held in the other. The entire team was frustrated, especially by the fact that it was July but Irons had kept them back from the real investigation, the one on the ground. A curfew had been enacted, and a number of trails in the Arklays closed off for the time being. Claire had long returned to Minnesota, allowing Chris to devote his focus to the case.

Eleven murders, three animal attacks, a handful of disappearances, and plenty of alleged sightings ranging from transients to oddly behaving dogs, even to strange and impossible creatures. Jill refused to believe in the last ones. The descriptions were all outrageous, and at night without a clear view. Looking out her window, she saw the empty McGee house. They had moved out only a couple days later, unwilling to continue to live around here. Jill didn't blame them.

Jill had slept in that morning, finally deciding to make use of a Saturday to catch up on some of the sleep lost over the past couple months. Despite her best efforts, she had gotten out of bed around nine, unable to go back to sleep.

She was already able to tell it was going to be a lazy day. Then the phone rang. She picked up the handset and brought it to her ear before answering. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me. We have to talk."

Chris.

"Why? What happened?"

"I can't tell you over the phone, people might be listening." Suddenly, she realized that Chris had been keeping his voice low. Was her partner getting paranoid? "Meet me at J's Bar as fast as you can."

"Okay, I'll see you there."

Click.

She set the phone back down on the receiver, wondering what had Chris so up tight as she pulled on a light jacket and hunted for her shoes. She had never heard him like this, not in the entire two and a half years they had known each other. Also, they didn't go to J's Bar that often anymore, usually it was the diner. Deciding to give up her attempts at figuring out what was up, she finished the coffee and headed for the door.

When Jill arrived at the fairly modern looking place, the bartender, their friend Will Solomon, was polishing glasses. The clean-cut, neatly dressed young man nodded at her when she entered, motioning towards the back corner near the arcade games. Chris sat over a mug of beer, with a five o-clock shadow, tired eyes zipping back and forth from one thing to another, constantly scanning before they found her. He seemed to relax a little as she sat down.

"What happened?"

He took a swill of the frothy lager. "You remember my friend Billy, who died in that plane crash last fall?"

"Yeah, Billy Rabbitson, right?" She guessed Chris must have been here since some time last night or really early this morning.

"He gave me a call last night. Before you ask, it was him, I'm sure of it. He said someone was after him; they were going to kill him if they found out what he knew. He said that someone was Umbrella."

"Umbrella? What could he have possibly found out that was so secret?"

"That's the problem - I don't know, other than that it had to do with the Victory Lake case. We were supposed to meet at Emmy's, but he never showed. I went out looking for him, and I found something of his. Something he never would have lost. I know he's dead, and I think Umbrella is behind it."

"And you're sure he wasn't just making stuff up?"

"I've never heard him that freaked out in my life, and he wasn't the type to pull pranks. Trust me, something isn't right with Umbrella. Did you know that Spencer, Umbrella's founder, had a mansion up north of here, out near Victory Lake?" Chris looked at her with tired, bloodshot eyes.

She blew out a breath through her mouth. "Better pass that drink over here, I'm gonna need some of that soon."

* * *

"Any new theories on the case?" Chris raised a hand. "Yes, Redfield. Go."

"I think that the Umbrella Corporation is behind it, somehow."

Where had that come from? Even Captain Wesker seemed to be caught off-guard. Barry rubbed his beard.

"What makes you think that?" asked a still startled Wesker.

Chris explained that he had gotten a call from his old friend Billy Rabbitson, and all that had happened with that as well as the research and other digging Chris had done over the past two days. Barry had to admit that though it was a little - no, a lot out there, it still seemed plausible. But the _likelihood_ that it was true… completely different story.

"And yeah, I know how crazy it all sounds. I find it hard to believe too, but I don't think Billy would have been so freaked out if it was all a bunch of bull."

Wesker raised his eyebrows skeptically. "You do realize that you're basing all this on speculation, right?"

Chris nodded, understanding that no one was going to believe his theory.

"I know it's got to be tough losing your friend, but that doesn't necessarily mean this is all some conspiracy. I know you know that." Wesker paused before continuing. "Anyone else have any new thoughts?" No one raised their hand. "Alright, everyone back to work."

Barry buried himself in a research paper on ritualistic cults, pushing his reading glasses back up on his nose. He would have to talk to Chris later; the young man was obviously pretty shaken up. Barry continued reading.


	7. Enter the Horror

A/N: Last chapter! Woot! Took me long enough... anyways. Thanks to you people who have kept reading this far, I hope that is because you liked it. Also review! Haha! Some thanks should probably go to Boss-Awesome for the somewhat consistent reviews, Special Agent FUNK for giving me something to read when I just needed a laugh, and Lord Leachim for continuing the massive Legends series. Seriously, check it out some time. And I know I forgot a lot of you, but I thank you too. Enjoy!

* * *

Jill's mind swam with facts as her eyes passed over letters that were all starting to look like gibberish. Three straight days, all research papers and reports. She desperately needed strong coffee.

Joseph burst into the office, making Brad jump and causing the other three members to look up.

"New recruit, comes in tomorrow," he huffed. Jill guessed he must have run all the way here from some distant part of the building.

"And this made you try to kill yourself to get here why?"

Captain Wesker walked in calmly behind him. "Frost, you're a lunatic. We have a new recruit, Rebecca Chambers. She will be joining Bravo Team as their medic starting tomorrow."

Ah, a girl. That explained Joseph's sprint. He had been the first to start hitting on Jill, starting the day she joined, and the new recruit would undoubtedly receive the same greeting. Wesker headed for his desk, then paused and turned to Joseph. "And Frost, don't even think about it. She's eighteen."

Jill cocked an eyebrow. Two birds with one stone; now Jill was neither the youngest S.T.A.R.S. member to join, nor the only girl. Deciding that was a good thing, she attempted to continue with her research.

* * *

Chris was about to grab the door knob and enter the office when the door opened seemingly by its own will, startling him as he came face-to-face (more like forehead to chin) with a young woman. A very young woman, with rather short, reddish-blonde hair. "Uh… sorry." Chris backed away to let her out.

"It's okay," she replied shyly.

"I'm Chris Redfield." He held out his hand. She grasped it with surprising strength.

"Rebecca Chambers. I'm new here." Definitely looked younger than eighteen.

"Nice to meet you. You're a bit early."

Her eyes widened in terror. "Oh, I didn't mean to-"

Chris chuckled light heartedly. "Nothing to worry about, it just might be a bit before some of the rest of the team gets here."

She calmed down. Wow, she was nervous.

Jill arrived seconds later, and Chris introduced the two of them. Chris' partner seemed to be a little uncertain about the recruit, but warmed up to the girl pretty fast. Soon Bravo arrived, and Rebecca was off to help them examine the latest crime scene.

"So what do you think of her?" Jill asked.

"A little jumpy, but I think she'll do fine once she gets into the swing of things. How 'bout you?"

"Same. Glad to finally begin breaking up the testosterone-fest here." She gave him a playful smirk. "I think she'll be able to handle herself well enough."

* * *

Later that week there was another attack, but the young boy got away with only a couple scratches from when he fell off his bike. His attacker had been tall, over six foot, and appeared to be drunk from the way he had been staggering and falling while trying to follow the kid. Also, the worn out clothing the assailant had reportedly been wearing indicated that he was possibly a transient or something of that sort. It had been the first attack in a while.

The S.T.A.R.S. office was still without air conditioning, and the lack of windows didn't help. Irons had finally set a date, the twenty-eighth, for when the S.T.A.R.S. would be able to join the ground operation. The team, Jill and Chris especially, believed that they should have been put there from the beginning.

The day had finally come, and the Bravos were loading up one of the RPD's Bell UH-1 helicopters for a reconnaissance mission into the Arklay Forest. Chris bent over and grabbed his can of 7up from the vending machine as Kenneth rushed past with a duffel bag containing supplies. "Hey Chris."

"Hey Ken. Whatcha got there?"

"Couple shotguns, a hunting rifle, and some ammo. Ain't no one gonna mess with us," he concluded with a grin, his teeth gleaming white against his dark skin.

"I certainly hope not, for their sake."

The two men laughed, and went on their way. Chris double checked his watch, seeing he had a couple minutes before the Alpha's meeting. Wesker wanted them to be ready in case something went wrong. The Bravos could handle themselves, but no one was completely sure what they would find, not to mention the fact that the rookie had no combat experience whatsoever. She was nice enough, polite, but was only nineteen and had yet to have gone on an actual mission.

The floorboards under the lavish red carpet squeaked as Chris walked along. Really, there was a lot about the police station that was simply unnecessary. It seemed more like an old mansion or aging library than what it was, with elaborate woodwork, peeling wallpaper, the stained glass ceiling in the lobby, and numerous of Iron's art purchases scattered around. Chris had even heard rumors that it contained secret passageways and such inspired by old spy movies from the fifties, though he had seen little to no evidence to indicate it.

Taking a few more corners, he arrived at the office. Jill showed up not long after, and the team performed the usual procedure of covering any new ideas, Wesker looking at Chris and stressing the word "new."

But before they could finish, Brad, who sat at the radio, began talking quickly. "Wait, what? You're breaking up!"

Wesker stood up. "Put it on 'com."

There was a burst of static before Kevin Dooley's voice made it through. "Mayday… we have… function. Everyone… requesting backup… twenty-two C…"

The rest was lost to static. Despite the heat, the realization of what 22C was made chills run down Chris' spine. The coordinates of the grid including the Spencer Estate. Jill looked at him worriedly; she knew it too.

Wesker began barking orders. "I want everyone to get everything to the chopper, and I want it done yesterday. Move!"

The shit had just hit the fan.

* * *

A/N: So, this is the end of Prelude to Horror, now for the sequel, taking place after the mansion incident. Please read it, hopefully I'll be able to update more often! Again, thanks!

-half-brain


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